


Hold my fork

by CasparKun



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Belly Kink, Developing Relationship, M/M, Stuffing, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-09-09
Packaged: 2018-02-13 23:06:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2168688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CasparKun/pseuds/CasparKun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the chubby!Stucky exchange. A few months post-ca:tws, Bucky is living with Steve who's coming to realize he's liking the way Bucky's filling out after indulging in an unrestricted 21st century diet. Ten pounds was more than enough to get the wheels in his head turning but now Steve has to figure out what he's going to do about his new-found curiosities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the chubby!Stucky exchange and, if all goes according to plan, will be five chapters with a bonus scene as a sixth. I'll be updating the tags and rating as new chapters go up (and it will get explicit).

Readjusting to life in a world that had been left in the past would have been a difficult enough task in itself, but when Bucky could still only remember things in patches and waves it was a different kind of challenge. He was proud to say that he was steady in rehabilitation now, functioning as a person of his own at all times and the number of periods where he was left feeling lost during the day was diminishing with each passing week. 

Every once in awhile it still happened. He'd space out and feel like things were slipping away from him, or he'd get overwhelmed and shut the world out. Living with Steve was helping things and he'd come a long way in the few months he'd had but some habits were dying hard and some reflexes were difficult to shut off. 

Waking from cryo had involved quite a few procedures to get him going and being fed a significantly large meal a few hours prior to being sent out on a mission had been one of them. It'd always been bland, and foods for the sake of the nutrients they contained; boiled vegetables, sardines, broths, and bland meats were foods he never particularly wanted to eat again, but with the way things had been going so far it didn't really seem like he was going to have to. 

The serum kept his appetite up and he ate normally given the circumstances, but not breakfast. It was almost habitual to eat a large meal upon waking to the point where he didn't feel right if he didn't, but now that his days involved shorter walks around the city and significantly less physical activity, the food had started to catch up to him. He hadn't put on much weight, the serum made sure of that, but he'd managed to pack on a good ten pounds and Steve had certainly taken notice. 

Not that he'd said anything. Mostly because it didn't matter to him what Bucky looked like—though he'd caught himself admiring the healthier glow in his face at times. Whether that was due to living a better lifestyle in general or the weight, again, it didn't matter. Steve was just happy that his friend was healing, not to mention just _alive_. It was still almost unreal, and he was guilty of losing himself staring at his friend a little too often. 

It wasn't that he was ever doing anything noteworthy, point in case: eating, but Steve told himself it was just the fact that he was here that still had him awestruck. In reality? He was starting to think he had a thing for his lips. 

Steve had always had a thing for him, that wasn't a secret to the other man. They'd had their moments, they'd experimented when they'd been younger and for Steve it'd been a little more than that but he hadn't found the right moment to bring that back up yet, if he ever did. Bucky was recovering from a lot and adjusting to a whole new world and he knew what that was like. It was possible that the other man would remember the things they'd had together on his own, but until then he was giving him some space and he was happy just to have him here.

Until he found the right moment though...He watched his friend chew the large mouthful of pancake he'd just shovelled in and lingered on the sticky sheen that was coating his lips, eating his oatmeal slowly as he split his attention between that, the morning paper, and the show going on in front of him. Bucky had already packed away half a dozen of those pancakes and was going for the full twelve by the looks of things, and that was on top of two hard-boiled eggs, a sizable stack of bacon, and a large banana. It was a lot of food, would put a normal person in a coma but Steve thought if he tried he'd be able to match him. Comfortably so? Maybe. He had a super appetite of his own thanks to the serum but he found that a large bowl of oatmeal stuck to his ribs as well as it ever had. 

Could Bucky eat more than he had in front of him? That was the question lingering in his mind as his eyes moved back up from the paper and back to his friend's lips, to his throat as he swallowed, and he found himself disappointed when the table cut off his view of Bucky's stomach as his gaze had continued to drop. He took another bite of oatmeal, watched Bucky fold half a pancake into pieces before stabbing it with his fork and shoving the whole thing in his mouth. He mirrored the thick swallow as he looked back down. 

It'd started with staring at his friend's mouth the times he'd caught him sleeping, appreciating the fullness of his lips and the curve of his adams apple, the line of his jaw and the familiar line of his nose. How could he help himself? That his appreciative gaze had started to wander lower when the lines of Bucky's abs had started to soften with the weight he'd put on hadn't set off any warning signs, he'd just been happy to see someone that he cared about enjoying himself and living the life he'd been missing out on. 

It'd been one night after Bucky'd had a small episode in the night that'd ended with Steve's arm slung around his waist in bed that'd gotten him thinking. His hand had brushed over the small mound of Bucky's belly and he'd given in to curiosity and had smoothed his palm along the curve, giving him the lightest squeeze and then almost immediately putting distance between their hips when the feel had turned him on. 

Steve hadn't allowed himself to stare lower than Bucky's chest since and he'd spent a few days feeling disgusted with himself for getting turned on--not only over touching his friend while he'd been asleep, but because he'd done it after Bucky had been through an emotional episode. The touch had been innocent, he'd intended it to be, but it'd done something to him and he didn't know what to make of that. 

In all honesty, he was getting worried that he _didn't_ have a thing for his lips. 

It was something more than that, something about the way he swallowed, about the way his breath seemed slightly laboured as he ate another big bite of pancakes as if breathing between bites was standing in his way of more food. The more he stopped himself from stealing glances at Bucky's middle the more he wanted to, and he was starting to obsess over it. It was wrong and things didn't make sense and then Bucky was breaking from food to gulp down some water, taking a deeper breath and hiccuping once before stifling a soft belch against his fist and Steve knew if he didn't take his mind off of this soon he might be in trouble. They had things to do today. 

“Did you remember to confirm the appointment?” 

Steve's voice broke through the silence just as Bucky had leaned back in his chair to take a breather and he stared at the blond with a content look on his face even if Steve's eyes were still glued to the paper. He didn't know what was so interesting in there that he'd barely taken his face out of it since he'd sat down, but he did know he'd been on page six for at least ten minutes now and page six just had a bunch of comics on it. It hadn't escaped his notice that his friend was acting a little weird lately but if Steve needed to talk, he knew where to find him.

“One fifteen, just like last week. Confirmed it yesterday.” Remembering had been a challenge at first. His therapy appointments were scheduled the same day at the same time every week and had been for three months now. It was part of the therapy itself that he needed to call the day before and confirm his intention to attend, but he hadn't missed that for a good few weeks now. 

“I'm proud of you.” Steve looked up then, playful smirk on his face and Bucky gave him a lazy roll of his eyes, breaking into a reluctant smile of his own.

“Give me a break.” It'd meant something the first few times Steve had said it, but now it was almost a joke. Two months from now, Steve would be proud at him for remembering to take a piss before they left the house.

“Not this time.” Steve took another bite of his oatmeal and Bucky licked his lips as he mopped another piece of pancake through some buttery syrup and popped it into his mouth. He was starting to feel full which meant it was time to slow down. Too full to move quickly and he wouldn't be functional enough to feel okay about the day. 

“You keep saying that like you're going to own up to it one day.”

“I will.”

“I can make a phone call and eat a meal myself, Steve.” They were talking light-heartedly, but Bucky wasn't quite sure why Steve was still chipping away at that oatmeal when it was probably cold by now. The only reason he could come up with was that Steve wanted to sit here and make sure he was eating.

“Really? I didn't notice the meal. You sure you're eating all right?” Steve was doing his best to keep the weight of where his thoughts were going out of his eyes, but his look was deeper than his words as he kept up the banter.

“I might need you to hold my fork.” The flat look Bucky gave Steve before he smirked was still playful, though it turned thoughtful as Steve almost immediately averted his eyes to glance at his watch.

“Next time. We've gotta be out the door in ten minutes.” 

“Damn--” Losing track of time was another thing they were still working on, but Steve didn't look smug at Bucky as the other man wiped his lips and then almost bolted from the table to go get dressed. The reminder had been a dig in itself considering Steve was already dressed and ready to go, but he was only half-listening to Bucky's complaints as he stared at the uneaten food still left on the abandoned plate. 

“ _Why didn't you remind me sooner?--_ ” Called from the other room.

Three pancakes left. If Bucky wore the blue button-down that fit just right he was going to catch himself wondering if those three pancakes would have made a difference in how he swelled beneath it, and before he knew it he was up and scraping them into the garbage beneath the sink. Bucky'd had his fill and wouldn't be coming back for them so why leave them there laying around?

His own quarter-full bowl of oatmeal sat at the table still as they walked out the door, Bucky wearing a looser shirt that left Steve feeling disappointed and Steve vowed to stop ignoring this and think about it while his friend was out. It was going to eat away at him until there was nothing left and he couldn't even get himself to avoid the mental _puns_. If there was anywhere he was going to find some answers, it would be on the internet.


	2. Escalation

Feederism. He'd bounced from google to wikipedia to urban dictionary and had left a trail of extremely questionable browser history, but he'd found a term that might just describe what this was. He'd always had a bit of an oral fixation and certain articles had mentioned a link, but the important thing was that there were people out there who had the same thoughts he'd been having, and people who embraced them enough to change their lifestyles. Steve wasn't ready for that, but he'd been comforted by what he'd found. 

He'd also had all doubts erased that this was something that might pass, or something exclusively tied to his feelings for Bucky after spending an hour on youtube, a whole drop-down list worth of variations of _stuffed_ and _feeder_ clogging his search bars and a few extra balled up tissues in the trash. 

For the first couple he'd tried not to, but every video he'd watched had had him thinking of Bucky and what his lips would look like smeared with cake, what his stomach would look like stretched with watermelon or soda or more hamburgers than any person needed for a single meal. What'd pushed him over the edge had been thoughts of Bucky's laboured breathing between large mouthfuls of pancakes and he hadn't been able to catch his own breath for a few minutes afterwards. Finally allowing himself to indulge in these thoughts had been half of the pleasure, and the guilt he'd expected to start weighing him down was there, but it was being buried beneath a budding excitement over having figured this out. The endorphins were helping as well. 

It wasn't normal, and he wasn't about to start screaming from the rooftops but knowing he wasn't alone was sometimes half the battle. 

Unfortunately, he was quickly discovering that the other half was keeping his mind off of these new-found fantasies enough to keep focused on the rest of his day. 

Doing research hadn't gotten it out of his system, it'd sparked something new in him and curiosity could be all-consuming. He'd kept his mind on the road when he'd gone to pick Bucky up on his bike, but he'd lost himself thinking about Bucky slumped back on the couch with his belly on his thighs when he'd gotten stuck at red lights. 

The warm press of his friend's body against his back on the way home had been reason for certain thoughts since Bucky had started to feel a little more like his old self, but today he'd found himself searching for the feel of his belly—to no avail. The slight curve of it wasn't pronounced enough. Not yet.

 

\--

 

“Just hear me out. I really think she's into you.”

“I told you, Buck, I'm not interested.” 

“...It's the lip ring, isn't it?” 

Steve scoffed and shook his head dismissively before taking another sip of his coffee. The caffeine didn't do anything for him but the taste was a comfort. It'd been a few days since he'd spent some time on the internet and he was doing pretty good with himself but how could he tell Bucky that what he was interested in was the small smudge of jam left on the corner of his mouth? He'd already packed away a dozen breakfast sausages and a sizable helping of scrambled eggs this morning, and now he was working on a stack of toast piled with butter and blackberry jam, sipping on orange juice between bites. It was all enough to have Steve feeling a little warm, but Bucky's choice of conversation was certainly helping him to keep his eyes on the paper.

“What would it hurt to give it a chance?” 

“It's not the lip ring.”

“Then what is it?”

“I'm just...not looking.” Steve was scanning an article about the success of a local baseball league for kids, getting pretty fed up with this conversation and Bucky wasn't taking the hint. Seventy years and things hadn't changed with Bucky trying to set him up with any girl that might see him, but the problem was that he almost felt more invisible than he had when he'd been small. Now they only saw the body, the _symbol_ and what he was supposed to stand for, not _him_ , and his attention was elsewhere anyway. 

“That's the problem. What don't you like about her?” Bucky took another large bite of toast and Steve glanced up, not sure whether he was getting turned on or pissed off but he just ended up rolling his eyes.

“It's not her—it's _not_ the lip ring,” 

“...But if you had a choice. Lip ring or no, what would you go for?” Still snacking on toast, Steve stopped and watched for a moment under the guise of thinking with a flat look on his face, and then he made the mistake of letting it crumple just a bit.

“...I guess I would rather someone without,”

“So it _is_ \--”

“-- _Bucky_.” Steve pushed his chair back in exasperation, took his own empty plate from the table and then brought it to the sink to start washing it off. He couldn't just sit still and deal with this. “It's me. My priorities aren't there right now, that's all. I'll find someone when I'm ready.” Scrubbing the plate with some extra gusto, he flipped it into the drying rack and then turned back around to face Bucky just as his friend started to open his mouth again.

“There's nothing wrong with wanting someone else to sleep beside every once in awhile, Steve.” 

It was the 'knowing' look in his eyes—the one that said _I know you need to get laid_ \--and that damn smudge of jam that had him reacting before he could come up with something to say in return, grabbing a slice of toast from Bucky's plate and stuffing it right into his mouth just to get him to stop talking. 

For a moment Bucky looked confused, jam smeared up onto his lips and Steve froze, realizing what he'd just done. He'd been thinking about feeding Bucky for days, but not like this. Then he started to chew and Steve realized he was still holding onto the toast and his stomach did a flip, though when he spoke he sounded downright grumpy. 

“...Just shut up and eat your toast.” 

He lingered there, eyes locked with Bucky's as his friend worked to slowly draw the whole piece of toast into his mouth, and through the annoyance he was still feeling Steve looked a little like he'd had the wind knocked out of him. There was a tension in the air, time felt like it'd slowed down, and it was only when Bucky reached up with his metal arm to hold the toast himself that Steve let his hand fall away. 

“Sorry.” Steve murmured, taking a deep breath. 

“...It's all right.” Steve had been torn between sitting himself back down and just getting out of the apartment for awhile, but then Bucky was looking at him with that same look and speaking through a half-mouthful of toast, and Steve was heading for the door. 

“I'm going to get eggs.” Since Bucky had eaten them all, again, and then he was gone.

And that was how it'd started. 

 

\--

Two days later and—to Bucky's surprise, Steve had been up early making eggs for breakfast. He'd been offered a few bites to taste test and Steve had fed him straight from the pan off of the spatula. It'd been unexpected but a welcome gesture and Bucky certainly hadn't complained when Steve had been up early again the next day making pancakes. 

Day after day he kept waking up to Steve cooking, fed bites straight from the stove-top at various points of readiness and then he'd sit down with his friend and enjoy. A habit that'd been his own started to become something they did together and he couldn't help but feel happy. He started to expect it, to look forward to it, and not just the food in general but to Steve cooking for him. He looked forward to the moments where Steve would offer him those bites, feeling warm from something other than the food until one morning he'd asked for a sample himself, and the way Steve seemed to light up did nothing to discourage him.

“I'm getting a gut.” Bucky murmured as he swallowed the lick of waffle batter Steve had given him—a lick he'd asked for--his human hand grabbing at his stomach through his tshirt and his eyes fixated on the blond's face. 

There was something about the way Steve had been stealing glances at him during their breakfasts together, the way he caught his eyes lingering--and not on his face or on his ass which would have made all of this easier to parse instead of the fleeting glances that seemed to be focused on his midsection. He wasn't sure whether Steve was judging him, trying to figure out how he'd managed to gain anything at all, or whether he was just fascinated as neither of them had looked to be anywhere near overweight in the photos he'd seen of them. 

“Yeah?” Steve's voice almost sounded strained and he'd paused for a beat before speaking—something difficult to miss when Bucky's focus had been on him as soon as he'd made the comment, waiting for a reaction.

“You didn't notice?” He had. Bucky knew he had. What else could be possibly be looking at? Steve may have thought that he'd been sneaky about whatever he was up to, but he seemed to have forgotten who he was dealing with. 

“Is that your way of saying you don't want one of these?” Deflecting. That Steve could do with a semblance of competence. Not that it wasn't still obvious, but Bucky just looked thoughtful for a moment, debating whether or not to just drop it for now before letting some humour fill his eyes.

“Not what I'm saying.” And he gestured for Steve to give him another lick by sticking his tongue out and waiting. The waffles were going to be good and he hadn't eaten yet, of course he wanted them. What he hadn't realized was how much he'd also wanted Steve to give them to him.  
They'd talked idly as Steve had put the batter in the waffle maker, waiting the few minutes it took to cook but instead of just serving everything up and getting into it, Steve set the two waffles aside onto a plate to cool while he refilled the maker. This wasn't something they could do in bulk, and after the next two were done and he was refilling the maker again, Steve seemed to feel his impatience in the air. The first two were still hot, but not hot enough to burn as Steve grabbed one and held it up. 

“Before I make the rest.” Another taste test. If the badder needed anything extra, Bucky would surely be able to tell if he sampled one of the finished products. That was all the prompting he'd needed before opening and taking a healthy bite.

“...It's really good, Steve.” He hadn't even needed to taste it to know that, but he'd gone for it anyway, cheeky enough to reach out and take another bite before he'd even fully swallowed the first when Steve failed to lower it away from him. 

“You sure?” Always double checking, Bucky had to think Steve was just teasing him about the normally enthusiastic responses he gave him, but what if it was more than that? What if Steve was starting to like feeding him as much as he was starting to like being fed and Steve was fishing for him to take another bite? It was a theory he was rolling around in his head, and as he went in for a third bite, he decided he was going to test it. 

“I'm sure.” Steve still hadn't lowered the remaining half a waffle from its trajectory to Bucky's mouth, finding himself almost incapable of it as Bucky went in for another bite. He'd become conscious of his own breathing, trying not to flush as his friend chewed slowly, eyes locked with his own and Steve didn't look away. 

“Good...” He'd lowered his voice, suddenly aware of the air thickening between them as Bucky went in for another bite without breaking that eye contact and Steve felt his mouth go dry, not saying another thing. He watched his friend chew, watched his lips purse and his throat bob as he swallowed and when Bucky came in for the last bite, he put it in his mouth instead of just letting him come for it. 

The silence stretched on even after the waffle was gone, the both of them carefully watching each others eyes but it was Bucky who finally broke the silence, voice quiet and low, mindful of how close they felt to each other. 

“They need syrup.”

“...Yeah. Right here.” There was no asking what this was, why Bucky was going with it, why any of it was happening. Steve just grabbed the bottle from the counter and poured syrup out onto the remaining waffle like he was in a daze, picking up the plate and bringing the whole thing between them this time before picking up the waffle separately and offering it up. 

Bucky immediately dug in, taking a big bite and Steve watched his lips with heavy eyes, a trickle of heat as heavy as the syrup dripping off of the waffle going straight to his groin. He couldn't help but imagine Bucky slumped on the couch instead as he fed him, syrup dripping down his lips and his chin as he got through waffle after waffle, belly on his thighs as he ate until he couldn't. By the time the second waffle was down to one bite, Steve was mopping it through the syrup left on the plate before offering it to him, and then he picked up the third without hesitation. 

This would all be better if Bucky were in on it with him, but he was going to take what he could get, feeding Bucky bite after bite until his friends' lips were sticky with syrup and his saliva was thick with sugar. Steve was hard in his pants but he couldn't bring himself to care when Bucky was groaning softly through another bite, down three waffles in just a few minutes. He was such a glutton like this, eating more than his share like he was still starving for it even when he was full and Steve was more than getting into it, holding the fourth waffle up to Bucky's lips.

“Steve...” 

“There's only one left, Buck.” He'd seen him eat more than this, and lost in the groove they'd fallen into he didn't think twice about encouraging him. 

“What about the ones in the maker...” The maker that was currently making sizzling noises and leaking thin trails of smoke, a burnt smell overtaking the room that neither of them had seemed to notice until now. It took Steve another moment to even remember what Bucky was talking about before he turned, plate shoved onto the counter as he cursed and pulled the waffle maker open. 

“--Shit,” They were toast, completely black, and then the smoke detector was going off and Steve dubbed the moment dead and buried. His immediate reaction was to turn back to Bucky, concerned that a noise like that might trigger something in him and he was just in time to witness him reaching up and crushing the detector with his metal arm, the high-pitched beeping immediately dying out. Steve couldn't say he was relieved, but he'd unplugged the waffle maker and he did his best to quickly dig the blackened waffles out into the sink. 

Then he deflated, huffing a sigh and mourning the moment lost as he leaned back against the counter, erection dead and burried. 

“Everything okay?” He wasn't going to ask if he'd had to crush it or not. That'd seemed like an automatic reaction and they could get a new one. Bucky had seemed to have deflated as much as he just had, shoulders relaxed and eyes looking a little tired as he walked back over and discarded what was left of that smoke detector onto the kitchen table.

“Yeah. I'm fine. It's just a fire alarm.” There was something in his eyes that Steve couldn't pinpoint, something upset but nothing like how he looked when something had sparked trauma in him. 

Steve couldn't help but crack a deprecating smile as silence lingered, glancing down and then back up at Bucky who—now that he thought about it—looked sort of like a cat that'd just been scared shitless, his hair a little mused and his expression confused. It was funny in an awful sort of way, all of it.

“I'm proud of you.”

That got Bucky's attention, perking up for a moment before scoffing and shaking his head.

“Jerk.” 

Steve smiled a little wider. They could save waffles for tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on this one. Hopefully it doesn't disappoint too much ;;; There will be some serious action in the next chapter! *wiggles eyebrows*

**Author's Note:**

> Not much happening in this one but the scene is set! I'm aiming to have the following chapter up at the beginning of september at the latest (the end of con season is currently absorbing all of my time) but I've already started it and it's outlined so keep a lookout for it!
> 
> If anyone has any criticisms I'm not object to hearing them. I love comments, and I've never written Bucky before so he may be a little off! I'm 100% aware that Hydra was feeding Bucky primarily through a concoction of IV drip solutions but given this is a belly kink fic, I've had to tinker with the backstory just a little.


End file.
